


Got My Heart In Your Hands

by FolleseGaskarth



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Modern AU, Supernatural Elements, halloween fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 19:38:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5103230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FolleseGaskarth/pseuds/FolleseGaskarth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean Kirschtein absolutely despised autumn. He'd lost his best friend, but he still felt like he was around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Got My Heart In Your Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Happy spoopy time of year! ♥︎
> 
> I decided to post something different to what I usually write because I'm trying to venture outside of my normal boundaries. I also got the idea for this and wrote it and kinda forgot about it before deciding to post it today.
> 
> Don't worry guys, there's a happy ending. Well, as happy as can be.
> 
> Enjoy my Spoopy JeanMarco ^-^

It gets to him every year around this time. It starts as soon as the leaves turn to a crisp orange and yellow, mixing with fiery reds. He sees everyone enjoying themselves and the cool air, the pumpkin flavored everything, buying costumes and having friends to laugh with and he just despises it. Despises all of it. He wishes he could just stay indoors for these three months, until Christmas time starts, until he can remember all the good things. Until he isn’t saddened by everything around him.

It all started when September did. Probably that first week, and Jean still blames himself for it. He was walking home with Marco, his dear, sweet, wonderful, lovely friend Marco, both talking about the wonderful fall weather, how Marco couldn’t wait to try his first pumpkin spice latte and see what all the goodness his friends spoke about was like. Just across the street was the cafe they were headed to and Jean, poor, silly, stupid, idiotic, oblivious Jean, walks straight into oncoming traffic. As soon as he saw the car, he froze, but amazing, caring, thoughtful Marco pushed him out of harm’s way. Only he pushed forward instead of pulling back. And while Jean landed on the safe sidewalk concrete, the car swerved the wrong way, hitting Marco directly.

And Jean watched it all happen.

He couldn’t even think straight at first, before he heard people yelling to call the ambulance. He rose to his feet as fast as possible, pushing people out of the way to get to his best friend, calling 911 rushedly. Marco was instantly unconscious, blood spilling out from the scrapes on his arms and legs, his beautiful freckled face also scratched up from when he rolled around on the concrete, and probably from when the car drove over him a bit. 

The tears kept flowing as soon as he got off the phone with the police. He was holding Marco’s limp body, crying over him. All of this was his fault. He held the bloody body close, uncaring of the mess he was making over his favorite shirt. This was his best friend, the one he could truly rely on, and it was all his fault that he was dying in the middle of the road. He heard someone behind him mention something about how ‘unruly and careless teenagers are’ and he couldn’t take it anymore. He rose, turning around to yell at the man, keeping Marco’s body close to his feet as he screamed his head off, telling the person to shut the fuck up, because his friend had just saved his life. His voice was broken, tears streaming and face probably splotched red with frustration. He seemed like such a kid for a nineteen year old. But it was Marco, and he’d do anything for Marco. He was still yelling when he felt a tug on the ankle of his jeans. He looked down and there was Marco, struggling to open his eyes. He’d never moved faster in his life. 

“What is it?” He asked in a rush, panicked as he noticed Marco finally awake. 

“Stop yelling.” He whispered with a slight smile before he coughed, a little blood falling onto the concrete.

“Stop talking,” Jean choked out through tears. “You’re hurting yourself. The ambulance is on it’s way.”

“Jean.” He whispered faintly.

“Yeah?”

“Stay with me.” He almost asked of him.

“Yes, of course.” Jean replied before Marco’s eyes fell shut again.

All the way to the hospital Jean cried, thinking about how Marco used the last bit of his strength to make sure Jean stayed with him. He remembers being in the hospital all night; luckily the next day was a Saturday so he didn’t have class. He also remembers Marco sleeping through the entire time he was awake, and also yelling at the nurses, demanding to know what was wrong with his best friend. But since it was an emergency situation, they couldn’t disclose that to anyone that wasn’t immediate family. As soon as Marco’s mother arrived that evening after work, he found out that Marco had suffered from internal bleeding and bruising, and a possible slight loss of feeling to his lower legs, no paralysis or anything, but it might be difficult for him to walk sometimes. Jean burst into tears again, thinking about how Marco might never be able to run track again. He also received an earful from one Meredith Bodt, wondering why in the hell Jean hadn’t called her before she got off work.

“I’m sorry Mrs. Bodt. I didn’t want to worry you. I know you have to work hard to support both you and Marco. I didn’t want you taking any time off.”

“Jean,” She grabbed the frazzled boy by his shoulders. “I understand, and thank you for that, but having a son is more important to me than my job. Without him, who am I working for?” For some reason, Jean burst into tears again, falling into the arms of the woman who was basically his second mother. 

Unfortunately, Mrs. Bodt couldn’t stay the night, having to go back to finish the dinner she left half cooked in the kitchen once she had dashed out, having heard the news. She authorized Jean as an emergency contact, however, allowing him to stay with Marco overnight. It was around 4:30AM when he was woken up by the noise of Marco’s voice. 

“J-Jean?” His voice was broken and frail.

“Marco?!” He woke terrified and frantic. 

“Jean… Am I in the hospital?”

“Yeah, do you remember what happened?”

“I got… hit by a car, didn’t I?” Jean nodded. Even though he’s just woken up, he already felt like crying again at the thought.

“How long have I been out?”

“Maybe like… twelve hours.”

“Wow.” Jean’s just staring at him, wondering if he feels pain, if he’s okay, if he hates him, and a whole bunch of other shit he can’t ask because it’d be too much and bother Marco. “Does my mom know?” Jean nods. “Where is she?” 

“She had to go back to the house. Left her groceries out and all.”

“Oh. Okay. What’d the doctors say?”

“Internal bruising and bleeding. And a slight paralysis to your lower legs.” Marco tosses his head back. 

“No more track, I guess,” Jean bites his lip, holding back tears. Marco reaches an arm out, very carefully, considering there’s an IV in it. Jean takes it, and finally starts crying. “Why are you crying?”

“I haven’t been able to stop.”

“Jean…”

“This is all my fault.”

“No it’s not. I should’ve known to pull you back instead of push you forward.”

“No Marco. Please don’t blame yourself. I shouldn’t have walked into oncoming traffic.”

“It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done.” As soon as their fingers tighten around each other the nurses rush in, taking Marco from Jean. He knows it’s routine and they have to check on the newly awaken patient but he can’t help but feel slightly enraged that they’ve taken his best friend from him. 

When they finally clear away, he notices Marco dozing off. He lets the boy be, kissing his forehead, just because he felt like it, and waiting until he fell asleep to go get some food from the hospital cafeteria.

Marco was released about two weeks later, being told to take it easy and given a list of foods and medications to take and eat while he was healing. Jean was glad to have his best friend back in class with him, happy he no longer had to take his homework to the hospital for him, even though he was happy to do so anyways. And everything was fine for them for a few weeks, until one day after class, Marco collapsed to the floor. Jean felt guilty once again, Marco had been telling him he felt faint all day, but Jean assumed he just hadn’t slept and eaten well, telling him they’d grab lunch after class as they always did. And then they were back in the hospital, but this time it felt worse. Because this time he knew something else was wrong, something related to the accident, something that probably couldn’t be fixed or else it would have been a long time ago. 

And once the nurses cleared away and took Jean outside, he knew the news wasn’t good. He didn’t care much for what the nurses said, something about his insides being ruptured or whatever, all he heard was that Marco wasn’t going to make it. Jean didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how much more he could cry, how much louder he could scream as he did, how much tighter he could hold his head closer to his body, threaten to kill himself to die with his friend, the one person he actually cared for more than his mother. The nurse tried to help him but he couldn’t hear anything but the fact that Marco wasn’t going to make it. And that it was all his fault. 

Once he gained enough sense to run into the room, he carefully grabbed onto Marco’s body, crying into his chest, trying not to wail, taking in one of the last times he’d feel the warmth of his best friend’s skin. His crying seems to wake up Marco, though he wakes up coughing, and Jean cries even more.

“Jean.” He whispers, softly and weakly. 

“Marco.” He cries brokenly.

“Jean… I’m not gonna make it, am I?” Jean shakes his head no, looking down, wondering how Marco could be so calm even when facing death. “It hurts really bad.” 

“I’m sorry.” Jean says as he tries to move to get off of Marco.

“No. Stay.” Marco says, bringing Jean’s body closer to his from where it was knelt over his own. And then he kisses him. Softly, wonderfully, and even though there are tears and probably a bit of blood mixed into it, Jean doesn’t care, because it’s the most wonderful thing he’s ever experienced. And now he’ll never get to experience anything like it again. 

“Marco, I love you.” Jean says straightaway.

“I love you too, Jean. You’ll always be mine.” Jean cries onto his face and Marco smiles widely.

“You too, Marco. Always.”

“Don’t cry, Jean. We’ve had a lovely past sixteen years. Sadly, they couldn’t be more, but it’s okay. I’m happy with this. You’ll be okay, Jean.”

“No, Marco, I can’t, I won’t be. There’s so much more I want to say to you.” Marco kisses him again.

“I understand, Jean. When we kissed I understood. And I always will. I have faith I’ll see you again sometime, Jean. I love you. Forever and past that. Stay alive and do well for me. I will see you soon.”

“Marco…” And all he could do was cry as he heard the heart monitor slowing down before it flatlined. He stayed on Marco, crying, sobbing, wailing, even was the nurses rushed in and tried to help him.

“I love you too.” Jean whispered before breaking down into unstoppable sobs, knowing that Marco hadn’t heard him say it back again. 

~~~~~

And now, about three years later, out of college, working a 9-5 with a lovely Computer Science degree to his name, Jean still can’t forget the love of his life. Can’t forget losing him, can’t forget how he cried for almost a week after, can’t forget how he almost failed that semester because he refused to go to classes that week, can’t stop loving Marco, can’t stop thinking about how he caused it, can’t stop wishing he could be with him. And most of all, can’t stop hating this fucking season. Can’t stop hating this weather and how pumpkin spice lattes ruined his life.

But the creepiest thing of all, the thing he hates the most, is that sometimes, he feels as if Marco’s around. It happened the first year around, and got progressively worse as time went on but this year, it feels the strongest. He feels as if Marco’s ghost really is haunting him, and he’s afraid that he’s mad. He notices that he’s followed him to work, that his coffee seems to stir itself slowly when he sets it down, that some of his papers fall unexpectedly even though he hasn’t touched them and the window isn’t open, that sometimes he walks back into his office and some things have been moved around. 

And then at home, in his own apartment that he just got over the summer, Marco has followed him there. Has made him believe that he’s haunted. But doesn’t want to solve it, because he’s sure it’s Marco. Who else would take care of him like Marco does? Turning the fire on the stove down when it’s dangerously close to his shirt, clicking brew on the pot of coffee when he’s late, dropping his keys off the counter when he’s about to forget them. But it seems to only happen this strongly around autumn. Around the time he lost him, and that’s how he knows it’s Marco. And he’s tried, tried calling out to him on those long nights when he can’t help but remember his childhood friend. 

And then October 29th rolls around: the day he lost Marco. He doesn’t sleep from the second it turns to the day at midnight until the next day, can’t bear to sleep through the day, not when he still feels guilty. But when he finally does fall asleep, exhausted and tired of crying, he does something he’s never done before. He dreams vividly of Marco. Surely, he’d seen his best friend here and there in his dreams but never like this. He’s in a white room in his dreams, and he hears a voice calling his name. He doesn’t know where to run to but he just runs.

“Marco?!” He shouts because he knows it’s him, it has to be him, it sounds like him!

“Jean?!” The voice responds. And then he sees him, sees him running towards him as well and Jean knows this isn’t a normal dream. He can feel the warmth coming off of Marco’s body, can feel the tears dripping down his face, and finds comfort in the arms he hasn’t felt in three years closing around him. “Oh, I’m so glad I was finally able to do this.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re not dreaming, Jean. It’s really me.” Jean’s half-baffled half-desperate, too desperate to care what the fuck’s going on, he’s just glad he has Marco again.

“What is this, Marco?”

“I’m inside your subconscious. I can control where your soul travels in your sleep. Instead of it making up stories for you, I had you meet with me.”

“Where are we?”

“Somewhere deep in another dimension. It’s complicated. The point is I’m here.”

“You always have been, haven’t you.” Marco nods.

“When I first died, it was harder to control my powers and tap into the real world. But now, you notice me don’t you?!”

“Yeah… Wait. Does that mean you hear me when I cry out to you?!” Marco nods again.

“It hurts so much to hear you like that, Jean.”

“I just missed you so much, Marco. I’m glad you’re here.”

“And I’m going to do my best to stay. I’m more powerful around this time, because this is when you think most of me. And today, it was finally enough for me to meet with you.”

“How come it’s when I think of you. Does this happen with anyone else?” Marco shakes his head.

“It’s because we’re soulmates, Jean. I can’t leave the mortal world or this dimension to go into the next without you. We were made to be together, we were meant to meet and be together.” Jean breaks down into tears again.

“God, Marco, I missed you so much,” Marco kisses him and Jean all but melts; he really wishes he had gotten more of this. “I don’t care if this is a dream, I don’t ever want to wake up, I want to stay with you forever.”

“It’s not. And I’m trying to make myself appear in the mortal world too. It’s dangerous because I’m not supposed to be there without a body or I can really fuck things up, but if it’s just with you, I can. I can control myself, I just wanna stay around you.”

“Please, Marco, I miss you too much. It’s been hell without you.”

“Geez, I know. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve saved your apartment from burning down when you left the stove on? Your mom used to do it and now me.”

“That explains a lot. I figured, actually. I did it a few times just to see if it was you.”

“Jean… wake up for me, please.”

“No, Marco, I don’t wanna leave you. I don’t care what time it is in the real world, I’m not leaving you.”

“Time passes normally here. It’s not that. I just need you to wake up for me.”

“Why?”

“Just trust me, Jean.” Marco’s body disappears from the dimension and Jean’s vision becomes hazy before he’s thrust back into reality. He sits up in bed and there’s Marco’s body at the edge of the bed, just as he had looked inside his subconscious. 

“Marco!” He cries out, moving to hug him before Jean passes right through him, falling off the bed and smacking his right shoulder blade into the hardwood floor. “Ow.” He whines and Marco’s dropping an ice pack he picked up from the freezer onto the floor.

“Sorry,” He says as Jean applies it to his shoulder. “I should have warned you that I can only touch, move, and carry small things. That’s why I always drop your stack of papers when I try to fix them.”

“I don’t care,” Jean says. “All that matters is that you’re actually here. I can see you, I know it’s you, here, in the real world.” Marco smiles widely and pecks him on the cheek.

“At least I can do that.” 

“I love you too.” Jean says. 

“I know. I heard you the first time.”

And even the next day, and two weeks after that, and four months after that, Jean could feel a hand cupping his own on the way to work.

**Author's Note:**

> Coincidentally, I decided to post this on the day I made up as Marco's death so happy Marco's death day aha. 
> 
> Okay anyways, I hope you guys liked this and I hope it wasn't too sads. Tbh when I was writing it I made myself cry; I don't deal with death very well. 
> 
> If you'd like to share some JeanGhost!Marco headcanons with me, please feel free to find me on Tumblr as [FolleseGaskarth](http://follesegaskarth.tumblr.com). I love discussing headcanons with people!
> 
> Thanks for reading and catch you next time! ♥︎


End file.
